


Sherlock Sneak Peeks

by Jezunya



Series: Sneak Peeks [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Discussion of substance abuse/addiction, M/M, Six Sentence Sunday, Sneak Peeks, WIP Wednesday, backdated, discussion of self-harm, discussion of suicide, fic excerpts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2020-11-28 18:23:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jezunya/pseuds/Jezunya
Summary: Excerpts from Sherlock fics I'm working on for Six Sentence Sunday & WIP Wednesday





	1. Redux 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first one is an excerpt from a time-loop oneshot I’m working on called _Redux_

It’s not all bad, of course – how could it be, when it means always being able to see him again, to come stumbling downstairs in search of tea and find his mad flatmate bent over some experiment, wild of both hair and eye, excited as a child over new discoveries and unexpected chemical reactions.

There are moments, John remembers, from the first time, the original time, that John had wished to freeze and save forever, had wanted to memorialise in photographic evidence, sights of wonder and beauty, as if he could use them to prove to the world that they were wrong, that this man was a wonder and a gift, or perhaps only to prove to himself that it was real, that they were real when they were here, together, at least once. He knows now to prepare for them, to commit them to memory, to snap mental photos if nothing else. In these moments when Sherlock looks at him, before, at the beginning, John had felt something, some unidentifiable force passing through him, some sense that this was important, that this was a tipping point in his life, an enormous decision about to be made if he could only open his eyes and really see it for what it was.

He sees those moments now. Meets them head-on. Thinks he’s even coming to understand them. More and more, he is learning how to act on them.

Sherlock is frequently surprised the first time John presses their lips together, the detective’s plush mouth gasping wide in shock, but his fingers always curl almost reflexively into the fibres of John’s clothing and his body presses flush against John’s as if he’s trying to meld them together, to climb right inside John’s ribcage and make himself at home.

John would let him. John would open himself up and house Sherlock in his own flesh, keep him safe, always, keep him warm and protected against the world and its spite, break his fall with John’s own back.


	2. MLTYS 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From later on in _More Love (Than You've Shown)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: discussion of substance abuse & addiction

“What was your thing? Before—?” She tilts her head toward the stairs, indicating the castle below them and the shelves of alcohol beckoning to them both.  
  
Sherlock takes a long drag on his fag, holds the hot smoke inside his lungs, relishing the burn and the tingle of the coming high, half oxygen deprivation, half deadly chemicals. “Cocaine,” he says at last, the word floating up and out of him on a stream of white smoke. “Heroin, when I couldn’t get what I wanted. Morphine, other times. Sometimes ecstasy, just to…” He’s out of smoke, out of words, drying up in his throat, flashes of memories long since deleted bubbling to the surface again, too vivid and visceral to ever fully leave him (hands, mouths, tongues, colours, heat, connecting, even for a short while, neurons turning off and nerve endings lighting up, just for a little while, just long enough, just, for once, _trying _to be human—)  
  
Harry blows out her own thin, pale cloud, nods when he falls silent. Doesn’t need him to elaborate. “And if you could get what you want – if you were sat in a whole room full to the rafters of pure, top quality coke, just sitting there, staring at you, calling you… But you knew John was right outside, just waiting for you, wanting you to make the right choice…” She sucks in, lets the smoke hiss out between her open teeth, finally looks over at him. “Would you?”  
  
Sherlock licks his lips, looks down at the rough surface of the roof under his feet, inhales on his cigarette, the tip flaring orange in front of his face. “I still crave it—”  
  
“Part of being an addict,” Harry says, nodding.  
  
“—but I don’t…” He trails off, frowning.  
  
“But you don’t want it,” Harry finishes for him after a moment. She blows smoke out in a thin column, lips puckered into a small circle. “You don’t _want _to want it.”  
  
Sherlock looks across at her and Harry meets his gaze, holds it, grim and serious, the most serious he’s seen her to date. He nods, looks away out over the courtyard and the trees beyond.


	3. Redux 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another bit from _Redux_ for WIP Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mention of self-harm & suicide

“Am I going to die?” Sherlock asks that night, voice deceptively calm and body curled around John’s as they lie in bed, long limbs folded around him, holding fast.

John sighs, rolls over so they’re facing each other in the dark. “Yes.”

He feels Sherlock’s ribcage expand against him, a quick, stuttering breath sucked in. “Brain tumour?”

John almost laughs. Shakes his head. Feels tears already threatening to break free. There’s a part of him that’s bucking against this conversation, screaming in the back of his mind that it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, speaking it now will only plant the idea in Sherlock’s head.

But… if they have all the information, if they know to watch for it beforehand, couldn’t they perhaps prevent it?

“If you were… ever thinking of hurting yourself,” John murmurs, words slow, aching, and he can’t look at Sherlock as he says it, “you would tell me – wouldn’t you?”

There is a very tense, very long silence from the other pillow. Then, voice flat, “Suicide.”


	4. Omegaverse 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this WIP Wednesday, here is a bit from an omegaverse parentlock fic I may or may not ever actually write…

“Did Fat Uncle Mycroft stuff you full of cake and biscuits?” Sherlock asks, grinning widely and swinging the child up into his arms.  
  
“Yes!” the boy squeals, laughing and throwing his arms around Sherlock’s neck, little fingers clutching at blue scarf as his father hefts his weight.  
  
The man inside the car sighs long-sufferingly, and then after a moment seems to gather himself once more. “Doctor Watson,” he says, sharp eyes zeroing in on John, voice nowhere near his brother’s deep tones – but what he lacks in bass he more than makes up for in posh superiority. John feels his spine straightening instinctively, his hands curling into fists and his heels clicking together, responding unconsciously to the air of authority about this ‘fat uncle Mycroft.’


	5. MLTYS 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From part two of my zombie apocalypse series, (More Than) Flesh and Bones

“See you later?” John asks then, and Sherlock’s head snaps up.  
  
“Yes,” he answers automatically, even as he feels the ground beginning to fall away beneath him (crumbling like silt in a rushing river, sand washing away, pulverised, all sense of structure destroyed by the relentless crashing of the waves, future turning to dust before his eyes, this was supposed to be his proof it’s all useless if he doesn’t get to keep at least a little bit of John John John is leaving turning going no no no _no **no **stop _**_wait_**), “of course.”  
  
John smiles again, apparently satisfied, and turns away.  
  
And then  
  
John  
  
leaves.


End file.
